


Chaos

by KaelsMiscellany



Category: Girls Next Door (comic), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, Everything's wonderful and nothing hurts, Gen, Silly, Things I should have posted ages ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-25 00:09:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelsMiscellany/pseuds/KaelsMiscellany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah ruins the somber moment. “So was he hot?”</p><p>When asked later Lydia will insist that it was solely the drink talking. “Oh God yes.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> So this was a tumblr fill I did a while back that somehow managed to slip through the AO3 cracks.
> 
> For those of you who have never heard of/ read _Girls next Door_ [here's the whole series](http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/gallery/772068?offset=240), go on read it; this silly crack!fic can wait.

Lydia likes hanging out with Sarah, Christine, and the rest of their posse. They don't judge her when she starts talking to people they can't see; not that they could considering their own weirdness.

Though she's currently regretting getting drunk with them.

“And then the asshole had the gall to live in my head for the next few weeks.”

Sarah apparently finds this uproariously hilarious. Lydia doesn't agree, and blames the other girl for mentioning WIBSY (Weird Boyfriend & Supernatural Stalker Club) at lunch earlier in the day. Because for all the rest of the day all she'd been able to think about was Peter Hale.

And she'd been doing so well at distancing herself from that portion of her life.

Now she's drunk and chatty; she knew she shouldn't have fallen for Sarah and Christine's doe eyes. Though really, they're the perfect audience to finally get all of the anger she's had pent up for five years.

Lydia-the-younger smiles. “Well you're definitely a WIBSY.”

Actual-Lydia lets herself collapse onto her couch with more drama than actually necessary. “Fuck.”

Despite joining Sarah on the doe eyes Christine's drunk very little, Lydia glowers at her and her well thought-outness. “So have you seen him since then?”

“Nope, Nada, Nyet. After I graduated that spring I gallivanted off to Boston and never looked back. Best decision of my life.”

Sarah ruins the somber moment. “So was he hot?”

When asked later Lydia will insist that it was solely the drink talking. “Oh God yes.”

-

Two weeks later and she and Sarah are escaping the oncoming cold in the university coffee shop and bitching about their upcoming finals. “And Mrs. Richmond expects me to take a completely different final from everyone else because she says I'll screw up the grading curve otherwise.”

Sarah makes a face. “Nice. Go complain to the administration.”

Lydia arches an eyebrow. “You're kidding right? This way I might actually have a challenging final.”

“Only you Lydia, only you would want to actually think with Christmas coming up. Speaking of which, do you have any plans?”

She shrugs. “Not really. Like every other year Stiles sent me an invitation to have Christmas with them all, but I never go. The eternal march forward waits for no woman.”

“Well if you want my opinion I think you should go. Knock 'em all dead with your hotness and tell Peter you think he's hot and the two of you can enjoy your mutual attractiveness together.”

Lydia nearly spits out her drink. “Hell will have to freeze over first.”

Sarah waggles her eyebrows. “I could arrange that.”

Sad thing is, Lydia knows she actually can. Frightening really. “Seriously? You want me to spend Christmas with the guy who had a crush on me for eight years, his boyfriend, his boyfriend's creepy uncle who you're convinced I like, and their friends. All of whom are werewolves?”

“Says the twenty-two year old who's halfway done with her Master's degree and regularly talks to the dead. To reuse some ancient advice 'Sometimes the way forward is also the way back', coming to terms with your past might help you 'march forward'.”

Luckily Lydia doesn't have to think of a response because Norman comes bursting into the shop and makes a bee-line straight for her. “So I, uh, might need your help.”

Lydia sighs.

-

Christmas is only a few days away and Lydia is still struggling with Sarah's suggestion. When she'd left Beacon Hill she'd sworn never to go back. But sometimes she misses life there. Misses seeing Allison, Danny, and Stiles. She even kind of misses the other student's cowering before her because she was Lydia Martin, undisputed queen of Beacon Hills.

The day before Christmas Eve she caves. After quickly packing a bag she races down the stairs, she'd learned to avoid the elevator after being stuck in it with Legolas for three hours, and nearly kills herself on an ice patch on the way to her car.

Luckily the drive to the airport is quick. The fee for parking her car in the garage for a few days is exorbitant, but she willingly forks over her card. Even the actual round-trip ticket to Sacramento is cheaper.

A five hour flight later and snow and ice are only a memory. The rental car line is far too long for her tastes but she goes to the end anyways. By the time she gets a car it's dinner time and her stomach's reminding her the last time she ate was breakfast. To top it all off jet lag is starting to catch up with her.

She feels no remorse in getting disgustingly-bad-for-you fast food on the way to a hotel, nor in eating it while driving. She manages to snatch of the last room in the first hotel she goes to, grateful that she'll only need it for the night.

-

It's Christmas Eve and Lydia indulges herself and sleeps in until noon. As always she takes her time getting ready, rushing never did anyone good.

She just barely escapes having to pay for an extra day when she checks out. And she's already left the city limits when she realizes she has no presents. Then she realizes she's basically going to see complete strangers who's tastes she doesn't even know anymore. She hopes they consider her coming enough of a gift.

The two hour drive back to Beacon Hills is full of lots of trees. She challenges herself to identify them at sixty-five miles an hour.

Entering Beacon Hills proper is like being slapped in the face with nostalgia, though not necessarily all good. She's so caught up in remembering that she nearly misses the turn-off for the Hale house. And pulling up to the house proper fills her with apprehension.

She leaves her bag in the car and goes up to the door. It opens before she even has a chance to knock. And of course it's Peter. “Hello Lydia. So good to see you after all these years.”

Stiles is there before she has to think of an actual response. “Lydia!” He scoops her up into a hug that leaves her surprised. “I'm so glad you came!”

“Hi,” she hates how sheepish she sounds.

“You made it just it time for dinner!” He pulls her past Peter and into the kitchen and just keeps chatting on like she hasn't been gone for five years.

-

By the end of the night Lydia is tired, but happy. Stiles helps her up. “I hope you're not planning on going to your mom's. Come on, we've got a guest room you can use.”

She collapses onto bed with a happy sigh.

-

The next morning she awakes at the not-so-happy hour of four AM. _Stupid time difference_.

Stumbling into the kitchen she's too tired to conceal her surprise at seeing Peter there. “Coffee?” He holds up a mostly full carafe and she gives a vigorous nod as she slumps into a bar stool.

And she's too tired to be freaked out that he adds just the right amount of cream to her cup. Her first sip has her making vaguely obscene happy noises. She can already feel herself waking up, even though the caffeine hasn't actually broken down yet. Or at least awake enough to try and have a decent conversation. “So what has you up at the ass-crack of dawn?”

She bites her lip in embarrassment because clearly she's been spending too much time around Sarah. Peter just chuckles. “I never went to sleep, too restless. As the saying goes I'll sleep when I'm dead.”

And yet she's still sleepy enough that she bursts into probably inappropriate laughter. He raises an eyebrow in silent question. “You already were dead. How much sleep did that net you?”

He chuckles. “Not much I warrant, but enough.”

Logically she knows dawn isn't for a few more hours, but the world seems a little brighter than it was a few minutes ago.


End file.
